


yet another high school au

by orphan_account



Category: Gyakuten Saiban | Ace Attorney
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-07-24
Updated: 2012-07-24
Packaged: 2017-11-10 15:04:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,715
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/467634
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>High school continues to be tough. At least Apollo has cool upperclassmen to help him out.</p>
            </blockquote>





	yet another high school au

Apollo has a situation. Well, no, it's more like an emergency. Or a crisis. Yeah, that sounds about right. He has— _is_ having a huge crisis.

He was supposed to come straight home after school and start on his everlasting pile of homework, and yet here is, clearly anywhere but. Klavier Gavin accosted him at the lockers after student council meeting and did that smiling thing with his stupid face and his stupid teeth, and all intentions of hitting the books suddenly flew out the window. Somehow he ended up at a burger joint clear on the other side of town, sitting across from _Klavier Gavin_.

Instead of initiating conversation, he takes another bite out of his burger. He waits for Klavier to say something first. _Any day now_. He looks at him, amused, like he knows exactly what Apollo is thinking at this moment. The worst part is that he probably does, and the joke is yet again on him.

“So, _kouhai_.” Klavier is way too amused by this entire situation, and he is leaning in way too close.

“Gavin Senpai,” he returns evenly, ignoring his hair and his smile and his face and his existence in general.

A laugh. Apollo opens his mouth to ask him what he thinks is so funny--

“Are you interested in coming over?”

He chokes before giving into a fit of coughs. When Klavier reaches out to him, he manages a quick “I-I'm fine!” Which is a big, fat lie because Apollo is _not_ fine. A long minute passes and Klavier is waiting patiently for him to recover, and Apollo thinks it would be helpful if he woke up at any moment and realized that he was having a really really bad nightmare.

“Um, _what_?” _Oh, real smooth there, Justice_.

“You aren't strangers with the concept of 'play dates', are you?” He can hear the _forehead-kun_ left unspoken.

He grits his teeth, feeling more irritated than he thinks is strictly warranted. “No.”

“Well I'm proposing that you come to my residence so that we can continue to spend time in each other's company.”

“I know what you meant,” he says. Apollo has yet to wrap his head around the hospitality and amicable nature of this person. He looks at the way he's yet to stop smiling and at the honest tilt of his head, and an unbidden “Yeah” comes tumbling out of his mouth.

“'Yeah'?”

“I want to go.” Apollo adds in quickly, “I mean, you know. See where the great Gavin Senpai lives.”

Klavier's brow arches. Apollo wants to sink into his seat, and maybe into the ground. “Then, do you have a curfew, _Forehead-kun_?”

Who does he think he is? Some sort of middle schooler? “No!” He slams the table for emphasis. A beat passes.

“It's at eleven.” His face burns and he wonders if there's a rewind button that he can use, like, _right now_.

But then Klavier's smile grows impossibly wider and warmer. Apollo has to look away because he knows what affection looks like, and he isn't sure that he knows how to deal with that. Rubbing his neck, he clears his throat. “So, are we going now?”

He picks up his guitar and his tray. “Impatient, isn't our little forehead.” Klavier is out of earshot when he finally thinks of a retort snappy enough.

He thinks better of making an immature gesture at his back and picks up his tray as well, joining him by the trash can. As they make the trek on the subway to his house, he listens to his stories about the trials and tribulations of being part of a two man band.

When they do get to the Gavin home, pretty much nothing that he imagined would happen actually does. It's an almost disappointingly normal visit, one that prompts him into thinking that he really needs to stop watching those dramatic _fictional_ renditions of high school lives, because clearly he isn't living one. Klavier is strumming away at his guitar and Apollo is on the bed, making use of this normal visit to do normal things. He sits on the corner first, before his history text starts to drag on and on. Slowly he begins to make himself more and more home on Klavier's bed, laying back as he reads the same line for what must be at least the fifth time.

Between the sound of Klavier's singing and the extensive history of Japanese agricultural practices, it isn't that surprising that Apollo nods off to sleep in no time.

When he feels a hand shaking him by the shoulder, Apollo absently wonders when his adoptive father's wake up calls got so gentle. He groans in protest, pulling the blanket over himself more tightly. “Five more minutes.”

“That is what you said five minutes ago, forehead.” A voice is in his ear and Apollo's eyes fly open. It takes a moment for him to realize exactly _where he is_ , and he stares blankly at Klavier. _Oh..._

Sitting up, he drags a hand down his face. When he feels pillow creases in his cheeks he cringes. “Sorry I ended up using your bed,” he mutters.

He laughs softly. “It was for a good cause.” Apollo stares at the pillow under his head and the blanket that covered him. The gesture isn't lost on him and he isn't sure what to make of it—to make of _him_ or anything about him at all. Because he teases him and smiles at him and encourages him, and whenever Apollo says he would rather be alone on the school rooftop, he stays right next to him anyway. Then Klavier's hand is in his hair, ruffling it, and suddenly Apollo can't breathe. He looks up at Klavier, demanding an explanation for the way his heart is slamming in his chest. There is none. Instead there are lips against his forehead, traveling down to kiss between his eyes as they fall shut.

“Senpai...” His voice is weak, which should be funny, but he's hardly laughing.

A kiss to his nose. He barely manages a quick inhale when warm hands hold his face and fingers brush against his cheeks. “Forehead.”

Swallowing, he watches Klavier leaning in. He can feel his body thrum with anticipation, and the next thing he knows, there are soft lips pressing against his. And then he's kissing Gavin Senpai. _Kissing Gavin Senpai_. _Right. Keep it together, Justice! You've done this before_. That thought promptly exits his mind when Klavier cards a hand into his hair and sighs into his mouth. Apollo has kissed other people— _another person_ before, but nothing in his prior experience made him feel like _this_. His palms are sweating and his heart is throbbing and he's certain that he's dying.

He doesn't feel exceptionally daring, but he traces Klavier's chin and his jaw, like he's imagined doing countless of times before. He isn't sure when his idle daydreams started featuring Klavier Gavin, but his breath catches in his throat at the knowledge of how much he's _wanted_ to do this. How much he's wanted to rest his hand against Klavier's nape and toy with the baby hairs there; feel the brush of his nose against Apollo's as he slants his mouth hotly over his.

The kiss turns wet as Klavier starts licking into his mouth, and Apollo _doesn't_ jump. _You've done this before_ , he repeats to himself, and takes the plunge, opening his mouth without hesitation. Klavier makes a _noise_ in the back of his throat and pushes him down against the sheets.

And it feels like nothing he's felt before. There's warmth in Klavier's weight—heat that has his breath running ragged and face burning hot. He used to think that there must be a _reason_ why people have been singing and writing about love and kissing for ages. _This is it_ , he thinks.

If he thought he was dying before, he knows now that he was completely wrong. He is absolutely dead now. There is no way that he is anything but d-e-a-d, dead. Apollo's stomach does a weird flopping thing and there's an embarrassingly _loud_ sound in the room, one realizes that came from _him_. Klavier pulls away and looks at him, eyes wide with surprise; his lips are shining and Apollo can feel the rapid rise and fall of his chest against him. _It's a good look for him_ , he catches himself thinking.

His train of thought crashes to a stop when he hears Klavier ask him: “Are you okay?”

He actually sounds _concerned_ and Apollo isn't sure how to express just how _okay_ he is with this. So he settles on nodding quickly, face turning impossibly redder.

“I'm not a fragile flower...” he mutters. Because he's not. Just because he isn't some _senior_ with a fan club and a band and couldn't play the guitar if his life depended on it doesn't mean that he's going to break him. Apollo resists the urge to roll his eyes and looks at Klavier. “You're not doing anything that I don't want you to do.”

He expects Klavier to laugh and tease him again, like he always does. When he smiles and presses their foreheads together, Apollo's not sure how to react.

“So you _want_ me to do this with you,” he says slowly. Apollo nods, not trusting his voice to speak.

“And this?” He kisses his cheek, then his chin and his jaw, and Apollo nods again.

“And this too, I am assuming.” His voice is low as he asks for permission to kiss him once more.

“Yeah,” he whispers, letting Klavier kiss him softly.

“And you're okay with us doing these things daily.”

The sense of awe in his voice makes the back of his neck prickle with embarrassment. Like it's really surprising that he would be willing to do all of this: walking home with Klavier, watching him sing, eating burgers with him as he makes fun of Apollo's forehead. All of those things sound fun and comfortable, and he doesn't want to stop doing them.

And Apollo thinks he can live with that.

So he looks intently at Klavier, forces himself to meet his eyes so that he can tell him so. Taking a deep breath, he speaks. “Yeah, I am.”

\-----------

\-----

\--

**Author's Note:**

> written quite some time ago for my friends. posting here for the purposes of archiving.


End file.
